


The Guardian

by Aledhwen



Series: Regis' Wonderful Hugs [3]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:20:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25744987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aledhwen/pseuds/Aledhwen
Summary: Geralt is badly wounded after a battle, and cannot heal himself. Fortunately, Regis arrives on the battlefield and tries his hardest to wrestle his friend out of the arms of Death.
Relationships: Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Series: Regis' Wonderful Hugs [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1766671
Comments: 8
Kudos: 132





	1. The last man on Earth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AmeliaXOXO](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmeliaXOXO/gifts), [squiddtastic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/squiddtastic/gifts).



> This time I also made an illustration you can find over there https://aledhwen.tumblr.com/post/625687151500247040/a-small-drabble-to-illustrate-my-new-fic  
> :) Enjoy!
> 
> PS: there's a little wink somewhere to Squiddtastic, you'll understand what I mean :D

Blood.

The stench of blood was so strong he could not think.

His heart was pounding loud, but slow.

Too slow.

It was painfully sending the little blood that was left in his veins to a foggy brain, struggling to remain awake.

Damn it. He had overdosed the black blood potion. His toxicity was skyrocketing, and there was nothing he could do at this point. The bottle of white honey was out of his reach, safely tucked into Roach's saddle, while he was lying there on the hard stone of the ruined temple, dying like the fool he was.

Above him, the sky was darkening, as the sun was slowly declining towards the horizon. The clouds were taking a reddish, fiery color, and Geralt's feline gaze got lost while tracing them.

Funny, how peaceful everything was, after the battle. He could almost think he was the last man on Earth. The ruins of the temple surrounding him strongly reinforced the feeling. The high columns and archs were reaching for the sky, like skeletal arms rising in a silent lament, after the end of all life. The dying sun was casting bright orange streaks on the forsaken pillars, dancing with the blue shadows which sighed under the weight of long lost memories. At the center of the scene lied Geralt, living his last moments, dying like the warrior he was. Dying to protect the innocent, whether they be monster or human.

A slight breeze started caressing the fallen warrior's face, as though to tell him that it was alright.

He could let go.

He felt dizzy. Progressively, the clouds started moving into circles, like slow, infinite maelstroms, ready to swallow Geralt and take him up to the stars beyond.

That was it. That was how he was supposed to go.

_The hell with your life flashing before your eyes..._

Curiously, Geralt's mind was filled with small, completely ordinary details. The texture of the wooden bench he had sat on last night at Corvo Bianco. The brief, momentary smell of one of his workers' hair while she tossed it behind her as he passed by her. The sound of Roach's hooves as they traveled through the thick forests. The twinkle of the city lights while Geralt and Roach camped on top of a hill near Novigrad.

"Geralt!"

_Ahh.. And that voice._

The thought of the owner of that voice was like a shooting star trailing in the velvet sky embracing Geralt's brain.

_I know...I know...I should be more careful..._

"No...Heavens, no!" The eloquent, very recognizable voice breathed somewhere.

_Hmm...Heavens...Dunno if I'm getting there...Killed too many...Fucked too much..._

"By all the Gods, Geralt. In what sort of mess have you put yourself into?"

_Guess I could've fucked you too, my vampiric friend._

_A strange friendship, to say the least..._

_Friendship..._

_Are we only friends?_

_Damn you Regis. Why is the last thing I think about before I die is you?_

Before he succumbed to darkness, his last thought was tinted with regret.

_I'm gonna miss you, buddy._


	2. The Last Battle

"Geralt!" 

The cloud of dark mist soon turned into an elegant man clad in a dark, leather-padded gambeson over an ornamented, buttoned-up tunic. His grey hair was bristling in the slight wind, and his hands clutching the leather strap of a rather large satchel hanging on his hip.

"No...Heavens, no...!" Regis breathed, rushing towards Geralt's silhouette. 

He kneeled down next to him, and with infinite delicacy, turned the witcher towards him. Geralt's face was pale as death, streaked with ominous dark veins. His eyes were closed, but Regis could feel he was still alive. 

Barely. 

"By all the Gods, Geralt. In what sort of mess have you put yourself into?" Regis growled, his heart clenching with fear as he could feel Geralt's heart pounding slower and slower. 

The stench of Geralt's blood was overwhelming, and the entire front of his armor was covered in the dark liquid. The vampire had a small breath intake when he saw the awful gash tearing the metal apart, crossing Geralt's chest like a black stain made by a careless painter. Yet Regis knew he first had to deal with the poisonous blood rushing in Geralt's veins, rapidly taking his life away.

He had no time to lose.

Fortunately, Regis was himself a bit like a traveling lab. He always had a certain number of herbs, and a few potions with him, at all times. And before he had set off to find Geralt, earlier this day, he had been carefully preparing to whatever state he would find the witcher in. White honey was the first potion he had brewed and bottled.

The vampire took Geralt's head between his hands, and brought their foreheads together.

"Do hang in there, Geralt. You hear me? I'm not about to let you die. But you have to fight it." He said in a strong, determined voice.

Regis then lifted Geralt and pulled him on his lap. Then he circled an arm behind his upper back, and wedged the back of his friend's head against his shoulder to hold it in place. With his other hand, he opened his satchel and pulled out the bottle of white honey. His sharp fangs quickly got the better of the cork lid, and he pressed the bottle against Geralt's already cold lips.

"Come on, Geralt. Drink this, my friend, I'm begging you..." Regis whispered, trying to get the liquid into Geralt's mouth.

He had to use his thumb to open Geralt's mouth a bit, just enough so that he could pour the liquid in, gently.

"Come on...Please, Geralt...That's it..."

Cradled in Regis' arms, Geralt swallowed the liquid slowly, occasionally letting out a groan of pain, his face contorting.

"Shhh, I know. I'm here, Geralt." Regis would soothe him everytime.

The vampire made sure to pour the liquid progressively, so that Geralt would not choke on it. His worry was growing though, and he bit his lip: he could clearly feel his friend's life slipping away from him, sliding towards the abyss.

"Don't do this to me, Geralt. Don't you dare do this." Regis chanted again and again, cradling his friend close, clinging to the bottle that was emptying so terribly slowly into Geralt's mouth. "I did not come back from the realm of Death so that you could depart so unceremoniously, and leave me to wrestle with your silence for all eternity."

Slowly, eventually, the bottle was emptied, and Regis tossed it away in order to wipe a trail of blood escaping from Geralt's lips, gliding on his pale cheek like a tear.

"R...Regis...", Geralt gurgled, speaking for the first time.

Said Regis almost cried of joy.

"Yes Geralt. It's me." He answered, rocking his friend in his arms like a child, wiping the sweat out of the white wolf's forehead.

"I...F...Fuck..." Geralt cursed, his face contorting in pain again.

Regis squeezed his shoulder and hugged him briefly to him, covering Geralt's hair with his neck.

"I know, my dearest friend. Please don't talk. You've got to keep your strength. The white honey should take effect soon." Regis whispered.

And indeed, Regis was relieved to feel that finally, the toxicity of Geralt's blood was lowering. He pulled back a bit to watch at his friends' face. On the pale skin, the black veins were receding. His friend was definitely recoiling from the gates of Death. But he was not out of the woods yet. He still had his chest torn open, and Regis had to do something about it, or Geralt would simply lose all his blood, toxic or not.

Regis turned Geralt's face into his own chest, and held him closer so that his arms could reach his back and unfasten his armor. After a short while, he had expertly freed the witcher from his upper gear, and he had laid him back down on the ground. For the first time, he took a good look at the wound.

"Good heavens..." The vampire breathed out, his dark eyes widening.

Geralt's chest was but a pool of blood, a ravaged battlefield in itself. The cut tearing it apart was very deep, and Regis shuddered at how close Geralt had come to have his heart ripped out.

"Oh Geralt, how in the world could you let this happen to you?" Regis growled between his teeth, torn between worry and anger.

Geralt groaned in answer.

"Oh you can groan and huff to your heart's content. But with all due respect, my friend, I keep warning you that you are getting old and therefore losing your reflexes! But noooo, Master Geralt does know better than anyone. Well no more, my friend. I'm not letting you out of my sight ever again, whether you like it or not." Regis reprimanded him while busying himself getting his surgeon equipment out on the ground. He started by pulling out a glass jar filled with a thick, greenish paste. Made of scarix, celandine and archespore glands, it was a powerful anaesthetic. Reaching out in his satchel again, he got out a small bottle containing a concoction made of alcohol, knitbone and mandrake peel, for antibacterial as well as fast cicatrising purposes. Then, he got out a bobbin of solid arachnomorph silk, as well as a long steel needle that he quickly plunged into the disinfecting concoction. At last, he poured a good measure of the concoction on a linen cloth, and settled down closer to Geralt. He put a reassuring hand on the witcher's sweaty forehead.

"I apologize, my friend, for this will most certainly be a bit unpleasant." Regis said, before pressing the cloth on Geralt's bloody chest.

The witcher let out a sharp cry of pain.

"I know Geralt. I know. Bear with me, for this shall not take long. I do have to clean this mess, it's already starting to look rather ominous." Regis soothed.

For a moment, he worked on his chest, alternating between cleaning the wound and caressing Geralt's forehead in a comforting motion. When he was done, he tossed the cloth aside and grabbed the jar of anaesthetic. He grabbed a handful of it, and started rubbing it meticulously all along the wound, making sure both edges of the gaping hole were covered, as well as a bit beyond. Then he tossed the jar aside again, cleaned his hands with a bit of the disinfecting concoction, and grabbed the bobbin of silk. With a sharp movement of his fangs, he cut the length he needed, and proceeded to attaching it to the needle. Then, he gently probed Geralt's skin under the greenish paste, observing his reaction. Geralt had none, which meant that the anaesthetic had worked already. Satisfied, Regis approached the needle from the torn skin, and started to mend it slowly, expertly. Unconsciously, he hummed while he worked : a soft, deep humming, that he often used when taking care of children, to appease and calm them.

After a long time, the enormous gash had disappeared, replaced by a long thread of white silk, sealing the ridges of the chasm together. Regis sighed and wiped his brow, before laying down his instruments. As a final step, he got a long piece of linen out of his satchel, and soaked it with the rest of the disinfecting concoction. Then he proceeded to bandaging Geralt's chest, lifting him just slightly so that he could attach the two extremities behind his back. At last, he closed his eyes, and laid both his hands on Geralt's chest, focusing on casting his mind inside the witcher's body. Slowly, a relieved smile stretched his thin lips, making his fangs appear slightly.

Yes, finally, Geralt was out of danger.

Regis let out an enormous sigh of relief, and he leaned forward, grabbing Geralt by the shoulders. He pulled him up and into him, embracing him in a strong hug, litterally crushing Geralt's face against his chest.

"You silly, silly, silly witcher... Oh Geralt, you scared the heavens out of me." Regis whispered in Geralt's hair.

"Aouch!" Geralt groaned.

Thinking the anaesthetic had worn off Geralt's chest, Regis quickly released the witcher:

"Oh I'm sorry my friend, does your chest hurt again?"

"Nah, the damn buttons of your shirt do though." Geralt whispered, with a faint smile.

Regis stood still for a split second before understanding what Geralt meant. Then he chuckled.

"Oh, my deepest apologies. Let me arrange that."

Rather than simply laying Geralt back down, Regis used his left hand to deftly unbutton the metallic buttons that were keeping his tunic closed, and against which he had just unceremoniously presssed Geralt's face.

"There!" Regis said triumphantly after unbuttoning a few buttons, just enough to reveal the pale skin of his chest, adorned with discrete and soft grey hair. His right arm still circling Geralt's shoulders, he used it to pull Geralt's face back into his now bare skin.

"Do not expect to get away so easily, my dearest friend." Regis whispered in Geralt's hair.

His lips crushed against the skin of Regis' chest, like a butterfly pinned down against a sheet of paper, Geralt could only muffle incoherent things. 

"Hddfm...?" he let out in a muffle sigh, somewhere in the vampire's arms. 

"Shh Geralt. Don't you dare speak, Regis answered, smiling fondly despite himself. I did not just wrestle you back from Death's arms so that you can die in mine by blabbering your stamina out." 

Regis brought a hand up to the white hair and caressed it with devotion, pressing his other hand hard against Geralt's naked back. He closed his eyes and rocked them gently back and front. He couldn't help from smiling. He couldn't care less whether Geralt would feel awkward to be held like this, like a giant baby, or to have his face pressed against Regis' bare skin. Right now, the witcher was his, and he was determined not to let go for a split second. His eyes still closed, he focused on the feeling of his dear friend in his arms, soothed by his rocking motion. Regis could feel Geralt's breath on the skin of his chest, a reminder of how precious the witcher's life was to his unbeating, but immensely loving heart.

He was deeply grateful for finding him right on time.

"Mmmf...." Geralt sighed. 

"A wise statement, my dear friend. Now hush and rest. I'm here. I won't let anything happen to you." Regis said. 

"Sss trtng m' lk ffffchld..."

Regis frowned and loosened his embrace a bit, just enough so that Geralt's lips could actually utter an intelligible sound. 

"I beg your pardon?" 

"Stop treating me like a fucking child." Geralt growled faintly. 

Regis chuckled, and with his hand still in Geralt's hair, he pushed the witcher's head back into his chest, sealing his lips once again against his skin.

"I'll do that when you stop acting like a complete, reckless idiot. That is to say never, should you have any doubt on the matter..." Regis answered.

After some time, Regis' ears twitched as he heard a sound behind him. The clappity-clap of horse's hooves, and a whinny.

"Ah, it seems Roach has come to the party!" Regis said joyfully.

Indeed, Roach's triangular head soon appeared over Regis' shoulder, seeking her master in the vampire's arms. Regis chuckled and loosened his embrace a bit, so that Geralt could see her. The witcher turned his head towards her, and raised a hand to stroke her soft snout, between her nostrils.

"Hey beautiful." Geralt whispered.

Roach gave a soft, deep whicker, and pushed her muzzle in Geralt's hand. 

"Yeah, I missed you too you." 

Regis had a fond smile at the sight of the strong bond uniting Geralt and his mare. They all remained silent for a moment, the vampire holding Geralt to him, while the witcher was caressing a closed-eyed, occasionally sighing Roach. Then Regis squeezed Geralt's shoulder.

"All right my friend, it is high time we took you to a safe place where you could heal and rest fully. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Yeah right..." Geralt said, his eyes closing on their own accord.

Immediately understanding their intentions, Roach shook her mane and laid down on the ground so that both men could get on her back.

"How very gracious of you, my dear Roach." Regis said.

He let go of Geralt for just a moment and proceeded to gathering his stuff. Once his satchel was back on his shoulder, he bent down and picked Geralt back in his arms, before carefully setting the witcher onto the mare's back. While holding him upright with one arm, he himself climbed on Roach's back, and grabbed the reins with one hand.

"Shall we?" Regis said, patting Roach's mane with the hand holding the reins.

Roach whickered while getting up. Shaking her mane once more, and under the benevolent, silver light of the moon, she set out towards the dark forest surrounding the temple, taking her two precious friends home.


End file.
